Dedicated to the above user for their amazing awesomeness (and love of Groot)! You totally would have been mentioned on the previous chapter if Wattpad would let me dedicate chapters to two people...

My nighttime arrangements are not comfortable whatsoever.

I am left in my straightjacket as two men seal me into a sleeping pod with artificial air filtered throughout - there are no openings whatsoever. This air is laced with odoriferous chemicals to keep me drugged and sleepy - presumably so that I don't think of an escape from the pod or a way to murder my caretakers and fellow inmates in their sleep. This plan isn't too thought out, obviously, seeing as I can clearly smell the sickly sweet gasses.

It's kind of stupid, really. My caretakers back on Earth left me unsupervised for hours at a time and never forced me to take any medication unless I was "having a really bad day" - code for "deep within one of my murderous rages." Now I'm on a spaceship where the only casualties would be three other freaks and a few official personnel (along with myself seeing as I can't pilot a spaceship) and suddenly I'm under close supervision and being pumped full of chemicals just to fall asleep?

Jake receives an actual bed, an object I haven't seen since before the mental hospital. Sure, he's tightly strapped down, but he gets to breathe non-medicated air, at least.

Xavier's legs are removed and he's allowed to sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed. His hands are loosely strapped in, just in case, but he's too small and weak to use them to do any real damage.

Deirdre shares that bunk bed. She has received the same conditions of her bunkmate other than, of course, having her legs removed. I think it's more for show than anything - if she doesn't get her hands on a gun, she's as harmless as any other young preteen.

Nicole gets a pod just like mine. She is forced in with her muzzle on, so I still have no idea what her voice sounds like or how she feels about her sleeping arrangements. She simply lies there, clearly struggling against the drugs, until she is overwhelmed and passes out.

All of my fellow passengers are lined against the opposite wall except for Nicole. Her pod is placed to the right of mine, so I can only watch her slowly falling unconscious by lifting my head and craning my neck into a very uncomfortable position. Luckily, the Voice is interested, too, so it shuts down the majority of the pain for me. It does this when something benefits both of us - it goes against biology and basic human feelings, controlling the ones that don't benefit it like upsetting the balance of nature is nothing.

Once Nicole is asleep and I have returned to my previous, more comfortable position, I discover that Jake is watching me. I meet his gaze unwaveringly. The Voice wants to do something crazy to get him to look away, but there aren't a lot of options from within the pod. Besides, the drugged air is finally starting to kick in, making me inescapably sleepy.

As I drift into sleep, I note with surprise that Jake never breaks eye contact. He keeps staring at me as I slowly pass out into a drug-induced slumber.

*

The next day dawns in the most boring manner possible.

"Dawns" is inaccurate, of course. There is no sunrise or sunset out here. This spaceship is not a planet, after all. We have no orbit, no rotation around the sun. It is an odd thought, to think of us disconnected from time itself.

I wake up in the same seat that I had previously occupied rather than the pod. Someone must have moved me while I was sleeping. Rather smart of them.

Jake is, like last night, staring at me. "Stalker alert!" I pipe up. It is the Voice, of course. I do not mind him watching me as long as I'm sure it's not because he wants to kill me - which I'm still not convinced off. He can't be trying to get friendly or even the slightest bit interested in me, though. He has to be convinced of my utter craziness. That's what the Voice wants, so that's what is going to happen.

"We already injected sufficient nutrients for the time being into your system," Vivian informs me as Jake looks away, jaw clenching at my comment.

"Thank you," I reply, the Voice gone. It perks up warily - that kind remark was a little too normal for its comfort, after all.

Vivian, however, treats it like a child's first words. "You're quite welcome, Sage," she tells me, beaming.

"Why don't you just get rid of her?" Jake demands suddenly. The tension in him has obviously been built up and seems to mostly release in that one short, hate-fueled question.

"Why don't we terminate Sage, you mean?" Vivian asks calmly as if he is an overreacting child rather than a homicidal maniac like the rest of us.

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean," Jake responds mockingly.

"Sage is not in her right mind. It is possible we could still find a cure for whatever's wrong with her," Vivian explains. "We believe that she was not fully aware of her actions."

"I think you'd have to be pretty aware of your actions to kill someone with an action figure!" Jake snaps.

"Personally, I wish people would stop getting hung up over the action figure," I interject. "I'm more impressed with the fridge murder. I mean, I'm 5'1 and 110 pounds dripping wet. I'm not even entirely sure how I tipped that thing over."

Jake takes a deep, steadying breath, my cheerful attitude in regards to my murders truly vexing him.

"Am I just like an annoying little tic to you?" I ask sympathetically, my voice increasing in speed and severity as I continue. "I bet you can't wait for the first opportunity to wrap your big beefy hands around my sorry little neck..."

"Shut up!" Jake roars, and the Voice is stunned into silence for a second. I bite my lip. I know I have crossed a line - the Voice crossed a line -

No. I was like this even before the Voice invaded. It was some of my natural maliciousness that hurt him. I might not have been a murderer when I was an uninfected thirteen-year-old, but I wasn't exactly a kind person, either.

"I didn't want to murder them!" Jake continues furiously, his voice quieter. "I told you - I was high." He looks to Vivian for support.

"We can confirm that," she agrees immediately, her voice calm and melodic as always. "It took our best medical personnel three years to get him off the majority of the drugs, and he is still addicted to a few of them."

"You're shipping him off to Mars without even completely solving his problem?" I asked, slightly surprised. I mean, sure, Mars's robotic scientists may want to experiment with different cures while safely on the red planet - but if they've had such good results in the last three years of Jake's treatment, wouldn't they feel more confident in keeping him on Earth and continuing the same treatment programs?

"Sage, a century ago, the amount of extensive repair we've done to Jake's body wouldn't have been remotely imaginable, let alone possible. He may look normal now, but - I apologize for this next comment, Jake - he truly looked like a monster when he was arrested. And even with all of our technology and medical knowledge, we still cannot wean him from some of the drugs. They have become essential to their survival."

"Such as?" Xavier inquires quietly. He has not reacted to our conversation so far; I wasn't even sure he was listening all that attentively.

"Ooh, the dealer's interested, as long as we're discussing drugs!" I cackle. I move to clap my hands before remembering I'm in a straightjacket.

Xavier ignores me. "I would guess steroids. Because of the body and temper."

"Correct," Vivian confirms. "Steroids, growth hormones, and a form of marijuana that, without the full medical explanation, puts your mind on autopilot - very angry autopilot. We're still trying to figure out how Jake managed to escape many of the horrific side effects from these drugs, but he has - and had - very few of them."

"Can we please stop discussing me like I'm not in the room?" Jake snaps, obviously attempting to calm down. A lot is explained now - steroids and marijuana make people have outrageous tempers. Apparently, that's Jake's deal.

"Sorry, Jake," Vivian apologizes. "Just trying to alleviate any confusion."

Also, nobody cares what we know about one another. Not after what we've done. Am I right?

"By explaining my drug addictions?"

"How else are you going to get to know your fellow inmates? You're going to be spending a lot of time together on Mars, after all."

I realize with that simple comment that I know next to nothing about our - my - future situation. Will I have to be kept in a constant straightjacket on Mars, just like I was back on Earth? Will my caretakers actually trust me to be around my fellow inmates? I wouldn't think so, but if everyone's going to this much trouble just to keep me locked up on another planet, then why even take me off of Earth without changing some things? Are the treatment programs truly that promising?

Before I can attempt to begin asking these questions without the Voice intervening, all of the lights go out.

One of the children lets out a reactive whimper and I hear Vivian stand up beside me. "What's going on?" I ask her, trying to sound aloof. I hate the darkness - I have ever since that first night. In the shadows, I can't see who's coming for me. And after all I've done, I'm sure a lot of people would jump at the chance to kill me.

I can faintly see a shape moving toward the doorway - Vivian. This was obviously unexpected by her as well, by the urgency of her reaction

An intercom system blares to life and a strange male's voice announces, "Temporary power failure. UFO in our nearby vicinity, moving quickly toward us. Identification has thus far failed."

"We're under attack by aliens?" I shriek gleefully, bouncing up and down and kicking my seat, my feet too high off the ground to pound on the floor in my excitement.

Vivian's voice is our only indicator that she has returned. "For lack of a better explanation as to what that thing might be..." She sighs and nods, her silhouette outlined with the emergency lights from the hallway.

"Aliens don't exist," Jake takes the liberty of reminding us

"Tell that to them," Vivian says, her tone strained with confusion and tension. I realize that she's pointing at the window between Jake and Nicole, and I strain to see that there are lights out in the inky blackness that are in too perfect of rows, too neatly organized, too close to one another, and all the exact same shade of yellow to be stars. Sure enough, a shape that looks remarkably like a spaceship is moving toward us.

A hissing noise starts. I cannot tell where its origin is. "Oh, what now?" Vivian moans, running from the room. It is the first time I have heard her sound anything but excited or calm.

"Hello, intercom man?" I call hopefully up at the ceiling. "What is that noise and please don't tell me that there is an oxygen leakage of some sort?" It's the only explanation my macabre brain can come up with.

Nobody responds, of course. My skull begins to feels odd, stuffy and empty, as if I have a cold as well as being dead. Through half-lidded eyes, I look around to see the other teenagers' heads are dropping to their chests as they pass out. With a final yawn, I succumb to the strange, sudden exhaustion and everything goes dark.